ADitL: January...Ferris Bueller's Day Off

So a very talented friend of mine who runs The Creative Mama decided it would be fun to do a little (I use that word loosely) project this year called, "A Day In The Life."  She drummed up a group of interested (and possibly interesting??) women and laid out some ground rules.  I thought it might be a fun way to resurrect this forsaken blog, so I jumped in.  Once a month, we all post some snapshots of... you guessed it... a day in our lives.  Not to be confused with Days Of Our Lives, which would include pictures of Marlena and Roman as they defy the aging process and continue battling Stefano.

So here's my first go at it.  Because I work all day, I will have to rely on my phone camera rather than my beloved Rebel.  That said, I make no promises for quality photos.  I don't even make promises of interesting photos, as my life is as average as the next person's.  But it might be fun, so let's do this.

January:  Ferris Bueller's Day Off
My husband had the day off, so I called in a personal day so we could get some of that ever-elusive alone time.  With five kids, (3 teens, 2 tweens), we spend most of our non-working time chauffeuring, or pretending we know how to help them do their homework. It's exhausting.  Here we are, enjoying a day off together, and demonstrating how truly boring and exhausted we actually are.

1.  I made the pancakes, he made the eggs.  We ate them in the living room and withheld from our cat.  Note her look of sheer disappointment when all that was left was syrup.  Boo.

 
 

2.  We ate in the living room so we could finally watch this week's episode of our favorite comedy, Modern Family.  He's most like Jay. I like to pretend I'm most like Gloria.  I'm actually most like Mitchell. 

3.  Kissed this baby goodbye.  13 years.  Took my oldest from car seat to driver's permit.  Then it literally went up in smoke.  While we were driving it.   We got our mechanic to give us $200 for it, and feel like we still came out on top.  Farewell, Ye Olde Minivan.

 

4.  Swallowed the bitter pill and bought an SUV.  Only so many cars fit a family of seven. While my guilt consumes me for the horrific carbon footprint I'm leaving, and while I feel a teense pretentious in such a phat ride, I will say that everything about it is fun and cool and comfy as hell.  And I get to listen to my favorite music on the killer sound system.

 

 
 
 

5.  Been wearing this shirt for three straight days.  Ain't no shame in it.  AFC championships coming up.  I can't grow a hideous beard, so I wear dirty laundry.  It's only weird if it works.

6.  Cleaned out our storage files.  Seven years of legal headaches finally over.  Good riddance.  Burn that mother down.

8.  After all that, we were as you can imagine, exhausted.  We curled up on the couch.  My man went to sleep, and I watched this week's Parenthood.  He is most like Zeke.  I like to think I am like nobody on this show, as they are all crazy and dysfunctional... but let's face it, I'm basically Max.  With a hint of Julia.

 

And that's it.  Maybe my work days will be more exciting? 

As part of this project, I'm linking to another gal participating in the ADitL.  Check out Jenn's post over at Ripples and Waves.

The White Girl's Take on Being Black

“...one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice

for all.”

     It is possible that as a nation, we have reached the point where “indivisible” is no longer an accurate component of our pledge.  The recent responses to the Trayvon Martin shooting and subsequent acquittal of George Zimmerman have made that clear.  Why is it that decades after the victories of the Civil Rights movement, race remains one of the most divisive issues in our country? And is there hope for change?  

     In my 40 years on this earth as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed white girl, I’ve seen and heard a few things that have shaped my perception of race.  We all have.  But since I’m writing this post, you get to hear mine.

1.  When I was in high school, my grandmother (who is West Indian) came to stay with us.  One day, some friends dropped me off after school, and saw her sitting on the deck.  One of the boys I was with said, “What?!  I didn’t know your grandmother was a nigger!” 

*People see color.

2.  My white girlfriend had a baby with her black boyfriend.  When they decided to part ways, she wanted to raise the baby with her family in a predominantly white community.  The baby’s father was worried the child would not know how to “be black.” 

*Cultural expectations shape who we are; expectations vary an awful lot.

3.  A couple I know has raised two sons to adulthood.  Their dad always insisted they wear polo shirts and dress “respectably.”  Their mom thought this would get them beat up in high school, because they’re black.  She now appreciates that the boys have jobs that require them to wear a dress shirt and tie to work every day, as it might just make them a little safer. 

*Fear and respect can easily be interchanged.

4.  When my son was 8, we lived in Northern Idaho.  It was cold.  We went into Walmart and he had his hood up.  He was by my side the entire time, and as we left the store, an employee came running over accusing him of shoplifting.  He had not taken anything. I’ll never know if it was my biracial child or his hooded head that aroused suspicion.  We no longer wear hoods up in public buildings. 

*How you present yourself matters.

People have decried the legal system in light of the Zimmerman verdict.  This case, however, reaches far deeper than just our legal system. It demands we address the blatantly subtle issue of institutionalized racism in our country. If you’re black in this country, there are already many preconceived notions of who you are as a person.  I took my kids to see Rio the other day. Guess who were the good guys and who were the bad guys? Even the animal characters fit the mold... the good ones were voiced by white actors, the bad guys and street savvy thugs were voiced by black and Hispanic actors. This is just one small example of a huge problem that needs awareness.   

“Institutionalized racism is a form of racism which is structured into political and social institutions. It occurs when institutions, including corporations, governments and universities, discriminate either deliberately or indirectly, against certain groups of people to limit their rights. Race-based discrimination in housing, education, employment and health for example are forms of institutional racism. It reflects the cultural assumptions of the dominant group, so that the practices of that group are seen as the norm to which other cultural practices should conform (Anderson and Taylor, 2006). Institutional racism is more subtle, less visible, and less identifiable than individual acts of racism, but no less destructive to human life and human dignity. The people who manage our institutions may not be racists as individuals, but they may well discriminate as part of simply carrying out their job, often without being aware that their role in an institution is contributing to a discriminatory outcome.”

               Reference: http://institutionalracism.net/default.aspx

The problem is, when there is a majority enjoying the privilege of being the majority, change is an uphill battle.

     A point worth making, however, is that institutionalized racism is not just effectuated by the white majority. Yes I get furious at the ignorance of white people, and the willingness to embrace something that feels so wrong. But you know who else I get mad at?  Members of the black community who perpetuate so many of the stereotypes that shape white ignorance.  There's a difference between rapping about "where you're from" in an attempt to expose injustice; it's a whole other story when your multi-million dollar career is based on exploiting that same injustice. When I see a black child in a suburban community "thuggin" like he knows the streets, I see a major identity issue perpetuated by our society as a whole. And it makes me angry. Do you know how many famous black athletes or performers I can count in my close circle of friends?  Zero.  That’s how many.  (Well...maybe the Taj Mahal Trio...but that’s just me bragging).  But guess how many black lawyers, teachers, police officers, coaches, soldiers, accountants, doctors, nurses, government employees, and other every day professionals I know who are black?  An awful lot.  We need more face time for positive role models who AREN'T athletes or rappers, so that young minorities feel a sense of identity in regards to things that matter, and things that are achievable.  And white people who live in predominantly white communities need to see successful blacks so that their opinions aren’t just formed by the media’s coverage of black celebrities. 
     I guess the bottom line here is that racism is real.  And it’s very personal and very painful.  There are many underlying factors sustaining the issue, but before we can progress collectively as a nation, we have to understand our own personal perceptions.  What do we think we know?  Are our beliefs accurate and fair?  Do our actions support our claims? I think if you examine your gut reactions to the Zimmerman/Martin case, you will be able to answer some of those questions, and decide how you can perhaps do just a little bit more to improve.

Today I Did Not...

-run in any type of race.
-create a symmetrical photo wall of adorable pictures i took of my children.
-make healthy, balanced meals for my family.
-get along with my husband.
-enjoy my kids.
-talk to any of my friends.
-do anything nice for anyone.
-get any uninterrupted time to read my book.
-feel like praying.
-appreciate other people's talents.
-laugh.
-make anyone else laugh.
-have a clean house.
-hear my children say thank you.
-join pinterest or instagram.
-plan any creative and fun summer activities for the family.
-pick up a gallon of milk.
-travel anywhere interesting.
-see a newly released movie.
-encourage my kids to have friends over for quality fun.
-go to a festival or a concert.
-watch my kids perform something that they excel at.
-find my pet adorable.
-go to the beach.
-sit by a firepit or roast marshmallows.

So by Facebook standards, I have done nothing today.  I didn't even shave my legs.  I did, however, indulge in some self-pity.

Perhaps I'll try harder tomorrow.

Managing Family Conflict

...or Why I Fight in Front of My Kids.

It was recently brought to my attention that my husband and I should not be fighting in front of our kids.  While I suppose everyone is entitled to their opinion, it is also worth noting that not every opinion is worth the spite with which it is offered.  But it does provide me with an opportunity to make some points for consideration.

If you know me or my husband at all,  you will know that we are extremely strong people.  We are mentally tough, and generally able to manage slightly insane amounts of stress with notable success.  You will also know that we are both extremely strong-willed.  Compromise comes only after a fair amount of heated debate.  Concession is generally in the form of the old "agree to disagree" adage.  If it were any other way, he would not be him, and I would not be me.  While it is, at times, maddening, it is also one of the qualities that most draws us to each other. 

Perhaps the worst advice I have ever received in my life was, "Never go to bed without resolving an argument."  Hello??  I need my sleep.  Eight hours, actually, to be pleasant and functioning.  Most of the time, calling it a night allows for a fresh start in the morning, with increased clarity, perspective, and determination.  The later I try to stay up and hash out an argument, the uglier it gets. 

Conflict happens.  It is part of life.  It's even more likely to occur when you pack people under one roof and call them a family.  It's apt to increase when you have extenuating circumstances like special needs, full time jobs, a history of divorce, blended families, ties to the military, and a whole host of other stressors that people today find themselves experiencing.  And you can be certain that your kids are aware of it, and they are watching every single exchange.  They are both consciously and subconsciously forming patterns and beliefs as they see the adults in their lives interact.  It is essential that they see their parents disagree and still love each other.  We often hear folks of an older generation say things such as, "Father never once raised his voice to Mother in our home."  or "I can never recall hearing my parents argue."  Can you imagine the disappointment this person was likely to have experienced the first time he or she got into it with their spouse?  "This isn't how it's supposed to be.  Where's the bliss?  Where's the harmony?"  It sets unrealistic expectations.  It's also more likely to start you on the nasty habit of sweeping things under the rug.  If we don't learn how to manage conflict, we become much more likely to avoid it.  This doesn't make the problems go away.  It just builds resentment and disappointment.  Shielding your kids from conflict sets them  up to experience these negative behaviors in their own marriages one day.

Not all topics are suitable for children to hear debated.  Likewise, the way in which you argue is also very important.  By no means am I suggesting kids need to hear belittling, insults, or criticisms.  This does them no favors, and teaches them nothing of value.  Drama is out.  Emotional manipulation, coercsion, and martyrdom are not how we teach our children to deal with their problems. Trying to get them to take your side places an unfair burden on them.  It's also a teeny bit psycho. If that is how you operate, then please, by all means, stop fighting in front of your kids.  If we feel like an argument is going to escalate, we go for a drive.  The goal is to teach them healthy skills, not perpetuate dysfunction.

My husband is amazing.  I once wrote down his strengths and the things I love about him, and it was four pages long.  He can also be a real pain in the ass.  I haven't made a list about that side of him, but it exists.  As it does for me.  And every other human being on the earth.  We are imperfect people trying to make a good thing better.  But make no mistake... at the end of the day, he is who I choose to be with.  I love him enough to work through our differences, and I love our children enough to teach them how to do the same.

Miracles

This weekend, I attended a women's conference at church.  The focus was on finding miracles in our daily lives.  This is an interesting concept to me.  I think, in general, we tend to view miracles as these extravagant interventions, explicable only by a vague nod to something beyond us.   I looked up "miracles" at dictionary.com, and here's what I found:

"an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause."

I agree with the premise of that definition, but I believe that the word "supernatural" ought to be replaced with "divine"; additionally, I would argue that while we could never claim credit for the workings of a miracle, they do not actually surpass all known human power.  It is often a joint venture between man and God, as miracles so often come at the hands of another.  It takes power to act on the promptings God sends to us, to effectuate these miracles in the lives of others.  God does not need us to do His work, but he gives us the blessing and privilege of becoming participants in it. And if we look closely, we will find that miracles truly are so much more available to us than we realize.

The speaker was a charming, vibrant young woman named Rachel Mills.  (if you are a follower of Christian music, she is married to Abe Mills of Jericho Road).  Her blog is called "Daily Miracles" and it details those small ways in which big things happen to us.  Sometimes we think of a miracle as being cured from cancer, or walking away from a fiery crash unharmed.  We expect them to be these larger-than-life experiences, and we note that they tend to occur in every one's lives but our own.  But have you considered that every instance in which you realize that God is aware of, and tending to your own needs is, indeed, a miracle? 

Faith has always come easily and naturally for me.  In spite of periods in my life where I acted selfishly, I still held fast to the faith that sustained me.  My heart embraces the idea of God's hand guiding my choices; and it only follows that miracles would be part of that process.  So is it accurate to say that any answer to prayer is a miracle?  I believe it is.  The fact that we have a Heavenly Father who loves us immeasurably, and is a willing participant in our happiness seems miraculous on its own.  Add to that the fact that He hears even our unspoken prayers and knows our needs, and I would consider that an "extraordinary event." 

We cannot dismiss these daily miracles as karma, coincidence, or mere good fortune, without robbing ourselves of opportunities to increase our faith and gratitude.  In doing so, we also run the risk of creating a very empty life for ourselves.  There are times when I have been having a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.  At some point, I'll receive a text from a friend saying, "Thinking of you.  Love you."  My friends don't send me daily texts of affirmation, so it's "extraordinary" to know that during those times when I really need some extra TLC, God finds a way to lift me through someone else. 

Some miracles are big.  Really big.  And they strengthen our faith in remarkable ways.  Daily miracles are not so big; they don't confound physicians or make it onto morning talk show segments.  But they are a gift to us from a loving Father in Heaven, to remind us that He lives, that He loves us, and that He is mindful of our needs.  Recognizing these daily miracles will strengthen our faith in remarkable ways if we look for and acknowledge them. 

Let's look for them a little more.  Let's be part of them a little more.  Keep a few snacks in your car to hand to the homeless as you pass.  Hug your snarly teen when you least feel like it.  Text a friend.  Give thanks that the "narrow miss" at the intersection was just that.  But most of all, see God in each of those events, and know that His love is behind them.

THE BIG FOUR OH.

Let's talk about my birthday, shall we? My man managed a near-impossible feat. He threw me a surprise party. If you know me, you know I am kind of nosy and super suspicious, so it's hard to get anything by
me. Just ask my poor kids, whose attempts to lie to me have been successful zero out of seven thousand attempts. Anyway.  I thought we were going over to the neighbor's for a quiet family game night. Imagine the mix of my horror and delight when I walked through the door to this:

 



And it only got better. Or worse.  Depends on your point of view.  I am not a dresser-upper.  I will gladly attend any costume party... as myself.   But the mastermind of this shindig thought since I was born in the 70's, it would be fabulous if we all dressed the part.  Look, I was born naked.  You don't see me trying to relive all that now, do you?

 

We are insanely busy people. When we have any free time, we usually fall asleep. So I don't get to see my friends as often as I would like. One of the highlights of the evening, and there were many, was getting to have some social time with people I love so much.
 Another highlight, was how my fabulously insightful husband brought several of my dearest friends to the party from hundreds of miles away.  He threw in a segment of video/audio messages from some of these people... I can't load the audio clips on here (Sorry Marji and Lisa,  because I did really love your clips), but take a look at the videos:

 



 

 

We danced it up, watched a very embarrassing slide show of my life, and had a whole lot of fun.  My man gets some crazy credit for managing to keep this a surprise, as well as making it such a memorable night.   You only turn forty once, and he sure knows how to make it count.

 

 

And lastly, I leave you with this...proof that 40 is when the fun really begins.

Three Teenagers? It Can Be Done.

With the addition of two teenagers to our family, it becomes necessary to ensure that we are all on the same page as far as responsibilities are concerned. When I started to think about it, it seemed pretty basic in my mind. This is how I see things. We, as parents, have three primary responsibilities, which in turn are tied to three basic responsibilities on the part of our children.

 

1.  We are responsible for providing for your needs.  This includes food, shelter, clothing, and love.  The love is unconditional.  Regardless of what you may or may not do, we will always love you. The food, shelter, and clothing is mostly unconditional.  I cook good meals and buy nice clothes for kids who are responsible and respectful. Should you choose to be otherwise, you are welcome to earn money doing jobs for neighbors to buy whatever clothes you can afford, and you are welcome to prepare your own meals using some basic ingredients that will be provided for you.  The only point at which we would give up our responsibilities would be if you became a danger to yourself or others.  At this point, we would turn our responsibilities over to qualified professionals who would then provide those needs for you.  And that is because we love you.  Unconditionally.

2.  We are responsible for providing you with a good education and solid life skills that will become a foundation for your success.  Everything you receive above and beyond those two things is a privilege, conditional on how well you respond to your responsibilities in those two categories.  Cell phones, social networking accounts, extra-curricular activities, television, computer, a job, social time with friends… those are all privileges.  As you demonstrate effort and subsequent success in these two areas, you will find we are fairly generous in allowing you responsible access to many privileges.

*(Solid life skills include honesty, hard work, patience, kindness, responsibility, respect, and any others that will make you a good person.)

 

3.  We are responsible for providing you an opportunity to develop your own testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  We do this by requiring you to attend church meetings and activities, and encouraging you to live a life consistent with those teachings.  We cannot force you to pay attention, to like it, or to feel anything while you are there.  But we ask that you use those opportunities to really determine your own beliefs.

 
This theory doesn't necessarily mean we will never have conflict or challenges.  But it certainly can reduce the number and intensity of them. Add a lot of deep breathing and personal time outs to the mix, and I think we'll do okay.

We Discuss Aging and Concerts

Last night, my man and I went to Alicia  Keys.  I would now like for us to hold a discussion on what this experience looked like for me, and conclude whether or not I am old.  Please read each statement below, and give me one point if you think my response qualifies me as old.  (Some statements may actually be worth more than one point.)

1.  The show was to start at 7:30.  At 7:35, with canned music still piped through the speakers, I began to think, "Let's get this thing rolling.  Some of us have a 45 minute drive home tonight."

2.  At 7:40, some guy got up on the stage and began singing.  He was quite enthusiastic, and he looked like this:

All the ladies were screaming.  I had no idea who he was.

 

3.  I noticed a younger man next to me googling him, so I leaned over to get a closer look at his phone.  "Alicia Keys and Miguel."  He then went to Wikipedia to learn more about Miguel.  I leaned in even more so we could read together.

 

4.  I didn't recognize 8 out of 9 songs he sang.

 

5.  He introduced this gem of a number called "Do You Like Drugs" by saying, "WHAT'S UP SEATTLE?  I JUST HEARD YA'LL LEGALIZED WEED!" and the first thing I said to my man was, "Really?  He JUST heard?  Because it's only been a hotly contested national debate since last NOVEMBER."

 

6.  After his tribute to the big toke, (which included a cheezy and lame sample of Bob Marley), he launched into some Ghetto Anthem, bemoaning the fate of crack babies.  I found his social commentary to be hypocritical.

 

7.  After 45 minutes of mixed irritation and ridicule on my part, he began his closing number.  I leaned over and said to my man, "Oh! The kids listen to this song on the radio!  I really like it!"  I was going to post the video of Adorn, but I found it to be too freaky for my taste.

 

8.  We were really feeling good about our sweet floor seats, until we realized people who sit in floor seats don't actually sit.  They stand.  For pretty much the entire 3 hours.  Not cool.  My back hurt.

 

9.  We arrived 45 minutes early so we wouldn't have to stand in line as long, and could make sure we got to our seats without incident.

 

10.   We actually stayed in those same seats the entire time.  We didn't move up to get closer. 

 

So there you have it.  We actually had an amazing time... went out for Italian at one of our favorite spots before the show; did some serious people watching; spent a night out with no kids; and Alicia Keys was, of course, INCREDIBLE.  She is a fantastic performer, and we love her music.  And even though it was a bit loud for my taste, it was well worth going.

 

Now tell me.  Am I old or is this all pretty normal? 

Embracing the Cursed Blue Bracelet

So here's the story.  My children's school has a PBIS program (Positive Behavioral Intervention and Support) called Self-Managers.  The program works like this:  Students who consistently demonstrate the following criteria earn the title of Self-Manager, receive a bracelet indicating this status, and enjoy various privileges as a reward.

I wholeheartedly agree that for most kids, this is a great idea.  The above-listed qualities are ones we value as a society, and frankly are the foundation for success along the way.  There is a sense of pride in being able to say that you are this type of person.  In all fairness to the school, they manage to maintain the program so that it doesn't feel like an elitist system...like those with bracelets vs. those without.  And in looking for ways to reach the majority of the student population, this has been a remarkably positive and successful program.

However.

The self-manager bracelet has manged to elude any wrists in this home over the past couple of years,  and with that have come a variety of responses...
"I'm going to try for self-manager!"
"How come I never get self-manager?"
"I'm never going to get self-manager."
"I don't care about self manager. Those bracelets are stupid anyway."

So what's a parent to do?  I want to feel excited for everysingleoneofmyfriends whose kids have earned the title.  But I also want to scream, "Seriously?  HOW HARD WAS THAT??  Your kid walked in the hall and was polite? Like they always are??  Where's the bracelet for the kid who didn't punch a whole in the wall today or drop an F.bomb when math got confusing???" 

These qualities are harder for some kids to come by than others.  So I have been on the fence over the effectiveness of this program as it relates to my child.  I'm not saying kids who struggle are exempt from having to learn these behaviors simply because they don't come as easily to them.  On the contrary, they need all kinds of extra love and support in their development.  So is a program like this simply going to drive home the point that my kid is not where his peers are?  Does it reinforce the "Why Bother?" attitude, since we're on our 3rd year at the school and still no "success"?  Does it basically make my kid feel like crap?

Yes. 

Unless...

You have a remarkably perceptive teacher, who communicates openly and regularly with the parents, and makes your child a part of that communication.  A teacher who sets achievable, measurable goals; who rewards small successes along the way and provides opportunities for "do-overs" as needed.  My son has had many great teachers along the way, but this year seems to have been our jackpot year.  In spite of the frustration that can come from working with a challenging kid, Mr. Baird has regularly shown patience and enthusiasm.  He has made the Blue Bracelet a possibility, and an achievable goal.  He has seen the growth and the effort, and has nurtured it.  I could care less about the stupid bracelet, but it does matter to me that my child is respectful, responsible, and safe.  And it mattered to his teacher.  And consequently, it began to matter to my child. 

I am grateful for the other staff members who shared these goals, and collaborated to help them along.  I cannot stress enough the importance of positive communication between home and school. We're on the same team here.
While the worth of my son can never be measured by a band of blue rubber around his wrist, right now, he's feeling pretty good about himself.  I suppose that is what makes the program successful.

A Few Thoughts (and some digressions) on Couples Massage...

...but first, a little background that might help the story.

BACKGROUND: 
I am conservative with my money.  I don't like to spend it, and I REALLY don't like watching other people spend it.  Some people look at it as frugal, or even financially savvy.  Some people consider it more along the lines of controlling and tight-fisted.  I'm not pointing any fingers, but...

Hmmm.  Well apparently I am pointing fingers.  But I digress.  Our anniversary is December 23rd.  Every year, I feel pangs of terror at the thought of spending any money to celebrate this event whilst otherwise engaged in a hefty amount of holiday spending.  So I devised a brilliant plan .  I thought, let's piggyback our anniversary onto Valentine's day!  I also dislike money wasted on things like flowers and chocolates, but if we planned a really fantastic night out once a year, we could kill two birds with one stone AND maybe have a nice time! 

See how fun it is to be married to me?!

MORE BACKGROUND:
So here we are, February 14th, and we're ready to give this a try. Kudos to a remarkably patient man who happens to call me his wife, because this is all fairly ridiculous in his book. But he loves me, and does his best to roll with the insanity brilliant logic . He decides to schedule a couples massage for us, followed by dinner at one of our favorite Mexican spots. I am a massage junkie. There was a point when I was good enough to get my insurance to pay for twice monthly massages. They eventually cut me off, and it's been a difficult road ever since (tight-fisted: cannot justify monthly indulgence). My man has only ever had a real massage once, and it was poorly done, so this was a big deal for both of us.  In the hour before we leave, my oldest son reminds me I had agreed to some social plans he'd made earlier in the week.  Uhhh... there goes my babysitter.  I glance nervously at my man, who makes no effort to hide his irritation.  No worries, right?  It's just a short night out.  The two younger ones can handle 2 hours home alone.  In comes the middle child.  "Mom! I'm going to pack my stuff for the sleepover tonight!"  Huh?  Ohhhhh yeahhhh... riiiiight... forgot about that one too.  Which leaves the youngest child home alone, and that's a no-go.  I try to look out of the corner of my eye at my husband,  hoping to see him chuckling amiably at my silly forgetfulness.  Yeah, no.  I see that look that means, "I gave up our anniversary because you're insane and can't spend money at Christmas.  I gave up buying you chocolates or flowers on Valentine's day even though I enjoy it, also because you're insane.  Now here I am, trying to celebrate our Valeversary and you can't remember to keep one of our two free babysitters from making plans for TWO HOURS?"  (there was love behind the look, don't get me wrong.)

THE ACTUAL STORY I'M TRYING TO TELL:

I called my awesome friend Melissa, and basically pawned our daughter off on her. Crisis averted.  We got in the car and made a conscious effort at genuine smiles, ready to salvage the evening. We arrived at the spa, and got settled on our tables.  I wondered if it would be weird.  I kept peeking over at him being massaged by some stranger, and I felt neither jealous nor turned on.  He looked so comfortable and relaxed, that I just felt happy for him.  We ended up having an amazing night, and I recommend a couples massage for anyone who has considered it.  And that's really all I had to say.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!  Several people had trouble opening the link when I emailed it to you, so I'll just post it up here instead.  Hope your holiday was wonderful.


Merry Christmas, from Skip and Andrea from andrea b on Vimeo.

Responding to Tragedy

Everyone handles tragedy in their own ways.  Some people are completely enveloped by it, immersing themselves in every story, photo, and video related to the event.  Others choose to avoid the continual barrage of media coverage, while still fully understanding the magnitude of what has happened.  To some extent, however, we all react with the same emotions; there is anger, confusion, sorrow, and true grief. 

Is it even possible to make sense of what is senseless?  Social media is ablaze with people trying to do just that, from one extreme to the next.  One friend says he'll tweak if he hears anyone say this was part of a divine plan, while another friend writes a poem about the children as angels.  Is one right and the other wrong?  I work in an elementary school.  I know children take their cues from adults, and feel an increased responsibility to make sure mine are accurate and honest, while still being measured and sincere.  Laying in bed on Friday night, I gave in to my tears and asked my husband, "Can you imagine as a parent, showing up at the meeting place to reunite with your child, and not seeing them among the survivors?"  The thought makes my heart pound and my body sweat.  My husband replied, "Why would I want to imagine that?"  My first thought was to tell him he is insensitive and disconnected.  But then I realized, he has dealt with horrific tragedies in war, and his own emotional well-being is based on an ability to disconnect from things he cannot control. 

I have a friend whose husband is dying of cancer.  They have three sons still at home, and he was in the prime of his career when diagnosed.  My cousin's 3 year old daughter is dying from a disease I am completely unfamiliar with, and every day she she loses a little more of the child she gave birth to.  Another friend recently lost her unborn twin sons.  I have sat with recently-widowed military wives, who will now raise children without fathers.  Are their situations any better or worse than the tragedy in Connecticut?  Tragedy is a part of this life.  We cannot control it.  It forms in our cells and grows to diseased tumors.  It walks through our doors with weapons and rage.  It is real, and most of us spend our days bargaining with God to let it pass us by in exchange for our compassion and support towards those whom it hits.

And perhaps that is the best we can do... measure our response to tragedy so that we do our part to try and provide balance on this scale of good vs. bad.  There is a quote that has become an integral part of our Coping Tool Kit.  Mr. Rogers tells us that his mother encouraged him as a child to look for the helpers in the times of tragedy.  We find solace in this idea because it provides a little of that balance that we ache for when our scale has been tipped so severely to the bad.  So regardless of whether you cope by joining a candlelight vigil, writing a poem, or asking people not to explain it as part of a divine plan... it really doesn't matter.  What matters is what you do after that.  What will you do to rebalance the scale?  I truly believe that it is not until you have stepped into the very cavern of Hell, that you long to find a way to reach for the higher realms of Heaven.

A Wicked Winnah

I went to my oldest son's graduation from middle school today.  His class is so large, that they divide them into 3 groups and stretch the ceremony out over 3 days.  Fine by me. I only have to go once, and the less kids, the better.  But here's the thing.  This ceremony lasted for 2 1/2 hours.  I would say, at the most, half an hour of that was given to the band and the choir.  "Well then, Andrea, what did you do for the remaining two hours?" you ask. 
Funny you should ask. 

You know what I did?  I watched more or less the same 21 kids (out of a couple hundred) get award after award after award.  I am all for rewarding hard work.  Made the honor roll?  High five, here's your certificate.  Clap, clap, clap.  But every individual subject created an award to hand out.  For example:
English:  "These students have shown an extra ability to use words in both creative and critical thinking."
Science:  "These students have adeptly handled beakers and gone on field trips."
Art:  "These students have shown extra skill in art."
Math:  "These students have demonstrated a working knowledge of equations, as well as strong computation skills."

And that literally only scratches the surface.  I'm not positive, but I'm fairly certain that I heard awards for such skills as "showing up at school", "high lunch attendance,"  and "having a pulse."   And of course there was a main body of about 21 kids who received one of every award.  Each award then had an additional 10-20 recipients randomly peppered in with the overachievers. 

*My son received no awards.  Slacker.

It felt a teeny tiny bit like overkill to me.  Kind of like the "every kid gets a trophy" at the end of parks and rec soccer season.  Ummm... what did they win, exactly?  I'm not necessarily saying we need to make everyone feel like a poo-bag for not coming in first,
but does anyone even know what it feels like to lose anymore?  This past year, at the Cub Scout's Whinewood Derby, when my 10 year old realized he was going to come in just about last, he said, "Can we just leave before they give me some stupid certificate that says my car is the most red?"

He's catching on. 

I'll Buy That For a Dollar.

I went grocery shopping today.  In front of me were two women and a man, with a lot of groceries.  I'm trying to think how to say this tactfully, but I can't, so I'll just say it.  They seemed unwashed and poor.  When it came time to pay for their things, they didn't have enough cash.  I felt bad, and offered to pay for the difference.  They were immediately embarrassed, which wasn't my intent, and they refused to accept the offer.  They began removing items from their purchase, and I tried to avert my gaze to save us all the discomfort.  Unfortunately, there wasn't much else for me to look at since, as a geographical bachelorette, I have no need for Cosmo's 169 Mind-Blowing Sex Moves, nor do I care about Bo and Hope's latest from Soap Opera Digest.  So I shifted my attention back to their purchase.

I am not actually rude enough to snap a picture of their groceries, but it looked almost exactly like this:

We all know my argument about "real" food vs. synthetic food.  But these people did not have a single fresh fruit or vegetable on the belt.  There were six cases of soda.  They were returning their big ticket items, which were frozen lasagnas and frozen pizzas.  There was no fresh meat.  Everything was processed.  One of the women was on an electric cart and was very overweight.

I won't lie.  There was a time when I would have been disgusted by this.  I would have judged them as lazy and incompetent.  But today, all I felt was sad.  Maybe they don't have the means to prepare food.  Or more likely, maybe they really don't know how.  Maybe no one ever taught them how to cook.  And while in all likelihood, they are well aware of the fact that an apple is healthier than a Suzy-Q, when it comes right down to it, 8 Suzy-Q's are indeed cheaper than 8 apples. 

I wanted to say, "Hey, instead of paying for your groceries, how about if I teach you how to shop and cook?"  And even though I would have sincerely meant that offer, I figured it would come across as condescending and presumptuous.  People make snide remarks about Michelle Obama's "interference" in the nation's diet and lifestyle choices.  But I absolutely believe nutrition education is dying.   Home Ec programs have been cut from most schools, and nutrition is glossed over in the curriculum because we need to get those math, science and reading scores up in time for testing!  We are bombarded with convenient snacks and fast meals, and in our crazy on-the-go lives, they absolutely make things much easier.  My concern is that people are not learning to differentiate between grabbing a couple frozen pizzas at the end of a hectic day, and buying 14 frozen meals to last two weeks' worth of supper.  

Anyway.  I felt frustrated and disappointed by this experience.  Do I think the government should tell people how and what to eat?  No.  But I absolutely believe they should assume responsibility for ensuring that nutrition education is available to everyone, and that healthy food choices are an affordable option across the board.

The Shape of Me

This song has been in my head a lot recently.  I am continually amazed at those who shape me, my life, and the lives of my children.  Two of my friends called a couple months back and said "How about if we come out around mother's day?"  Ummm... how about absolutely yes??!  I hate that we live so far apart, that our kids don't know each other, and that life flies by us faster than I can keep up with.  So they came.  And we decided to head to the coast for the weekend.  I have another friend, just as wonderful as Dawn and Tiff, who said, "Hey, I would love to keep your kids for you."  She is selfless and generous, and threw my kids right in with hers.  It's hard for me to leave my kids because there are so few people who can manage the little bundle of challenges that come with that task.  So Melissa, thank you, for being one of them.




My life, like all of ours, has been shaped by bumps and challenges.  At every point along the way, there have been people who have helped me figure out who I am, face my fears, embrace my successes.  It is particularly significant to have friends who have known and loved you before and after a major life changing event.  They help you see what you may not have seen before, and help you negotiate meaning in uncertainty.  Friends who do this for you are a blessing. 

As I often point out, I am also fortunate to be married to a man who can hold both my hand and my heart.  There are bumps in this path we walk together, and I would never want to do this without him.  Tonight, I was exhausted.  Three days to catch up with my girlz doesn't lend itself to much sleeping.  I am tired from worrying if my husband will be safe when he travels the roads and air of that God forsaken country.  One of my kids, who held it together like a champ while I took a night away, had to release the anxiety tonight that he'd felt while I was gone, and it wasn't pretty.  I was up late last night in the ER with my little girl, who broke her arm.  In spite of a wonderful 3 days, stuff caught up with me tonight.  And it was hard.  Really hard.  And then he called.  And I felt the shape of us; the shape that is familiar and soothing and fits like no other shape.  He reminds me I am not alone, that I've got all the strength I need in the shape of us.  He shows me how, together, we move through to where we need to be. 

There is good to be found.  It is as real as the hard stuff, and far more worth looking for.  So thanks to my friends, who are so much a part of all that good.  And thank you, Skip, for being the very foundation of all that is good in my life.  We have built our world in the shape of us, and it's really good.